


Sacrifice

by MyDarkSideWearsPink



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Marauders, Post-Marauders Era (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyDarkSideWearsPink/pseuds/MyDarkSideWearsPink
Summary: "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to the man who has thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ..."The Dark Lord has died, but he will return. The one with the power to defeat him is safe, and his parents will make every sacrifice for him to remain so.AU : Jily lives
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Basically : AU where the prophecy mentions James' son but not Lily, so to keep Harry safe she goes back to the muggle world and forsakes magic and he agrees to not try to search for his wife and kid. Angst ensues.

If he had any magical powers, Harry would use them to make his mother happy. 

She always says she is, when he asks, she says she couldn’t be happier because she has him and she doesn’t need anything more or anyone else and when she kisses the top of his head he pretends he believes her. He knows she loves him the most, that he loves her as much and that they’re as happy as can be, but he can’t help but think that he is not enough. They’re best friends, but he is clever enough to know she can’t speak to him as she would an adult, can’t complain how hard is work and expensive is life, can’t explain why most nights, after he has been tucked in bed and told a goodnight story, she stays up softly crying in the living room.

She wouldn’t explain it to him anyway, so Harry doesn’t ask.

Harry doesn’t have any friends at school, because he’s in the same class as Dudley and Dudley hates him, and is good at scaring the other kids in sharing his opinions.  
He hates Dudley.  
He hates Uncle Vernon the most, though.  
He hates Aunt Petunia as well, but not as much, because even if she’s cruel-looking and always complaining that Harry is a burden and Mum an idiot, she is never overtly mean to him when Mum’s there ; sometimes he thinks it’s because Aunt Petunia is afraid of Mum, but that would be stupid. Mum is all smiles and soft words, not much taller than he is and not scary at all, whereas Petunia herself reminds him of a harpy from the fairytales Mum used to read to him.  
However, Harry is the first to admit that Mum can be scary sometimes, when she is angry. Well, he always thinks it is very amusing when she gets angry on her own, when she bumps her toe on the table or she burns dinner and starts saying bad words out loud like “fuck” or “shit”, or funny ones like “Merlin” which he has never heard anyone else say. She is far less funny, though, when she is angry at him. She is not often angry at him, but he has learnt throughout the years that she hates when anything weird or out of the ordinary happens. The problem is, strange things often happen around Harry. He’d accidently knock plates that would go flying through the room but ended up in his hand before they could reach the floor. He’d break his favourite toy and cry because it was new and has cost a lot to Mum, but when he’d open his eyes, it was like nothing has happened. His worst memory ever was when he’d tried to reach for his favourite book on a shelf way too high for him, and Mum has walked on him just as the book started floating through the air into his reaching hand. She has been so furious he has broken down in tears and it has taken her a few minutes to calm down enough to gather him in her arms and apologize. “I shoudn’t have screamed like that. I was so scared” she has whispered against his cheek, the both of them still trembling from her outburst, and he has wondered what could possibly scare the ever so brave and magnificent Lily Evans. 

Harry has no other family.  
Harry doesn’t have a dad. Mum said she once had a boyfriend but he died before she knew she was pregnant and that was that, and then she get sad, so Harry doesn’t ask anymore.  
Harry has a pet fish but he doesn’t really care. He’d like to have a dog, but doesn’t ask for one because he thinks Mum hates dogs even more than she hates Harry doing weird things or Vernon being racist. She always looks at Marge’s ugly pup with her freckled nose scrunched up in disgust, and there has been a time once when she has found Harry playing in the street with a big black shaggy dog and her face went from pale to white to green to red within seconds and she has started screaming weird things to the dog, things like it was an idiot and has always been a careless ass and she would kick its stupid ass back to the hollow of some guy named Godric if she ever saw its stupid face again, such nonsense that Harry has feared she had gone mental for good and she’d be put in an asylum and he’d have to live with the Dursleys. So, no dog. 

So, Harry only has Mum, even though Mum works a lot and Harry hates it but he won’t say anything because he knows she only works so hard so that they don’t have to go to live with the Dursleys again. Harry only has Mum and Mum only has Harry and Harry wouldn’t have it any other way, even if Mum gets weird around stray dogs and mad when he dresses up as wizards for Halloween and silent when he asks about his dad and sad when she thinks he’s not watching. 

But one day, right before his 11th birthday, there’s a letter with his name in green ink on the kitchen table when they wake up, and Mum gets all weird, mad, silent and sad at the same time.


	2. Chapter 1

James Potter rose from the bed, the taste of firewhiskey and bile sour in his mouth. The sun was bright, shining through the ragged curtains, and birds could be heard chirping in Godric’s Hollow. It was a beautiful summer day, James thought as he threw up.

Raising up from his daily rendez-vous with the toilet bowl, he moved to the sink and put his head under the water, eyes avoiding the remains of a mirror he had broken years ago in a drunken fit. James knew too well what the shattered reflection will show; a pale face, hollowed cheeks, haunted eyes, too thin to be healthy. An old man. Barely 31 years old, sure, but at least a few centuries old. Premature wrinkles on a roughed skin, greying hair and stubble, sore muscles, scars whose provenance had long been forgotten. He was old, alone, and an alcoholic.

Still, he was alive. That was probably the worst part of all.

The man in the mirror was a far cry from the boy James Potter had been, a dozen years ago. Young, athletic, clever, handsome, popular. Headboy, quidditch captain with his fair share of groupies, adoring parents, friends that felt more like brothers, a loving girl, and a healthy number of rivals. Now, James was alone. A betrayed friend, a vulnerable soldier in a long-lost war. A fatherless child, a childless father, a widower in all but name. All James had left of the glorious life he could have had, now, were memories. Sometimes, at the worst times, he’d rather not have those memories at all. There were images, sounds, sensations finding their way back to him even in his most inebriated state. A mother’s kiss on his forehead. A stag running through the forest. Four teenage boys piled up in a small bed, leaning over a blank parchment until the wee hours of the morning. A naked form pressed against his, trembling under sweaty sheets, and hair burning brighter than a bonfire. And green. Green everywhere. Green the trees surrounding a magic castle, green the dry grass by the lake in early summer days. A green evening dress, a green stone on a golden engagement ring. Green eyes, seeing right through his soul, filled with disdain, anger, but then with curiosity, care, desire. The same green eyes, but in a newborn child's face. Green again, the killing curse aimed at the woman he loved, when he was just a second too late.

The memories tended to fade away with the alcohol in his system, but they were back stronger and clearer when morning came. Lily. Harry. Voldemort. Pettigrew, the Order, Remus. Sirius, whose hands James suddenly felt under his arms, raising him to his feet. 

“Come on, mate. Let’s get you up and running.” 

Often, James had begged his best mate to just obliviate him and be done with it. The memories were too much. He wondered how he’d fare, in a world where he didn’t remember his family. Would he go back to his former, happy, careless self, to the kid he was before Lily’s love, like nothing happened? Or would he always feel this aching void, even without knowing what part of him was missing? Would he forget he was a father, or was it so defining to his identity that he’d feel it in his bones, even if he had no memories of Harry at all? Would he still “know” them, if he were to set eyes on his wife and son? Sirius was easy to convince, he had so very little tolerance to the pain of others. It was Remus who had stopped them everytime, claiming it would be the worst mistake of his life. James hated that he was right, though he would argue that his worst mistake was agreeing to leave his family in the first place. 

James knew, deep down, there was nothing he could have done. Had he been in the house, he would have been killed for sure. Lily and Harry might have managed to escape, but they’d be living in hiding, just as they were now, except that Voldemort would still be alive and after them. But James had left, anyway. Just a couple of minutes, to get diapers, how trivial. When he had come back, the door has been ripped off. He had run upstairs, heart in his throat, missing a few steps, and reached the nursery just in time to hear Harry scream and Lily plead and see the dark wizard direct the killing curse at them and… And nothing. He had woken up to his baby’s wails a few minutes after, unable to tell what the hell had just happened. It was Dumbledore who had explained, later, his own theory, as they sat on the couch in their destroyed living-room. Snape had been a death-eater all along. Nothing surprising to James, but he still reached out to squeeze Lily’s fingers. Voldemort had sworn to Snape he would spare Lily, taking an Unbreakable Vow of some sort. He had thought himself above the oldest, most powerful form of magic, and had tried to kill her anyway. The curse never reached its target. The broken vow had turned its magic against the vow-breaker, tearing his body apart, killing him instantly, exploding their home around them, sending the couple flying through the air. Harry hadn’t moved, his heavy crib bolted to the ground. Miraculously, the toddler had left unscathed, except for a tiny, odd cut on his forehead, shaped as a lightning bolt, which provenance couldn’t be explained. 

When the news went out, the whole wizarding world rejoiced and celebrated the demise of the Dark Lord, but for James, it was still the worst day of his life. The Potters weren’t safe, not even now. Dumbledore suspected Voldemort will return and Harry was, definitely, the saviour announced by the prophecy. They had been careful, as careful as they could, yes : only the people in the Order knew James and Lily had married, fewer even knew they had a child together. But Pettigrew had been one of them; it was easy to guess that the Deatheaters would still be after them. There was only one thing left to do to ensure Harry’s safety, really, and Dumbledore’s cold blue eyes had burned into James’s soul when he had asked the young man how far he’d go to save his son. Anything, he had replied, and before the night was over, Lily had left with their son and the bigger part of James’ heart, and he was drowning his despair in firewhiskey as Sirius and Remus burnt every picture in the house, destroyed every proof that a happy family had lived there.

To whoever had known them, before they went into hiding, Lily Potter and their son had died that night. To the rest of the world, they had never existed.

Remus was downstairs, of course, fixing James a tea and a sobering potion. It was a well-rehearsed routine for James and his mates, by now. Waking in the middle of the day, sobering up, eating in silence with the two other men, leaving to do whatever mission Dumbledore has assigned to them, going to the pub, flirting with the waitress and pretending not to see the pity in her eyes, getting wrecked, having Sirius put him to bed, sleeping, repeat. If he was hammered enough, he might shag a girl in the pub bathrooms, close his eyes and pretend she was Lily. It never worked. The girls never wanted to see him again after that. 

“Drink up, Prongs” Remus greeted, placing a steaming cup in front of James. He drank up, and grimaced. Even after all those years, he was not used to the taste.

“You really need to get a grip of yourself, mate” Sirius said, taking a seat by Remus’. 

“Right” James articulated, letting out a dry laugh. “You’ve been saying as much for years. Change your tune.”

“We mean it this time, Prongs.” Remus and Sirius exchanged a worried look across the table, and James saw the silent agreement between them. As if they had rehearsed the conversation (which they probably had, if James was to be honest), they turned to their friend, Sirius wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Remus said, in a more gentle way: “Harry just got his letter.”

This had the effect of a cold shower, sobering James up twice as quick as the potion. It was the first time in years he had heard the name, after all. They never talked about his family. Never. It was an unspoken agreement between them, and his friends had broken that. 

“Well, it’s hardly a surprise” he replied, trying to look casual. “We always knew this was coming.”

A quick glance at the calendar on the fridge confirmed the news. In a few days, his son would be 11, and James had no idea. Most days, he couldn’t tell the year they were in, let alone the month. He felt like throwing up again.

“James …”

“How do you know?” He had been keeping his questions to himself before that, knowing it was the only way to keep them safe, and to keep his sanity. No more. The name was out now, after ten years of silence, and James had to know everything they had kept hidden from him. 

“Minnie is visiting them today.”

“What for?” James asked. It was becoming easier to speak about them with every passing second. In fact, it was as natural as breathing. 

“Well,” Remus frowned, “They always send a teacher to explain it to the muggle kids.”

“But he’s not a muggle, Lily…” He paused, realization hitting him. “He doesn’t know?!”

“It was the deal, mate, you know it was. The less he knew about our world, the safer they were.” Remus reasoned. 

“But he doesn’t know… Anything. About Hogwarts. About his mother. About … me.” That was not a question. He knew, had always known. It was what Lily and he had agreed upon, the night they parted. Still, it didn’t hurt any less. “I know it was the deal, I just didn’t want to think about it. About them. It was easier this way.”

From the haze of his still inebriated mind, James felt tears gathering behind his eyelids, and Sirius’s arm tighten around his shoulder. 

“We know, mate, we know.”

“He’s going to Hogwarts.” It should have been a happy day; the day he and Lily had been dreaming about since they learnt she was with child. He’d never have imagined, not in a million years, that he would be forbidden to be around for this day. “Remus … You’ll be his teacher.” Then the truth hit him, and he groaned, burying his hangover head in his arms. “Snivellus will be his teacher. Snivellus will see my son everyday, and I’m not allowed to even let him know I exist. That’s fucking unfair. I need a drink.”

Before Remus had a chance to protest, Sirius had poured him a glass of firewhiskey. Remus let it slide, just for today.

“What the fuck am I going to do, now?”

**Author's Note:**

> It 's my first attempt at HP fanfiction and basically one of my first attempt at fanfiction, and I'm not totally fluent in English, therefore I apologize for any typos, bad grammar or just bad storytelling. Thanks for reading ! More chapters are coming as soon as I've decided how far I want to take this story.


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